


The Devil in the Details

by newlegend



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood, Cannibalism, Gore, but there shouldnt be anything too bad because research y'know, im sorry if there are geographical errors, or historical errors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newlegend/pseuds/newlegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was August in 1888 when the Whitechapel Murderer first made a public appearance, terrorizing all of London. When Will Graham found himself consulting on one of the biggest cases of the century, searching for a man who called himself Jack the Ripper, he certainly hadn't anticipated what it would be like to get to know London's most notorious serial killer so intimately. To help him cope, Jack Crawford enlists the help of one Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who seems quite interested in Mr. Graham. </p>
<p>AU in which Hannibal Lecter is Jack the Ripper, and Will Graham is the unfortunate soul who finally finds him interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil in the Details

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure where this came from, but I knew I really wanted to write a historical AU that had something to do with Jack the Ripper. I'll just get this out of the way and apologize for any cultural, historical or geographical errors, though I certainly hope there won't be many of those.

He could smell the blood before he even saw the body.

William Graham hadn't anticipated walking through London's East End on that cool morning in early September, but Jack Crawford, a dark skinned man with a towering presence, had asked him to come, and how could Will refuse? While he preferred teaching to working in the field with the Metropolitan Police, it just so happened to be Will's rotten luck that he was the best at what he did. And what Will did was get into the heads of killers.

Of course, Will could get into the head of _anybody_. But for someone who could barely make eye contact without twitching, it was never something he really wanted to do. He had found a way to utilize his strange gift, looking into the maddest, most depraved heads in London. At least that way he was helping people. 

Jack had first heard about Will when he had caught the man who had killed his own father. Despite the grief and the loss, Will had managed to construct the profile that ultimately caught them their killer, a man who had owed the older Graham money and was unable to pay it. From then on, Jack had kept an eye on Will where he taught literature to older students. With children, Will knew he would have to engage in them, something he was unable to do. At least this way he could simply talk at the older kids, teaching them without having to socialize with them.

Jack had started asking Will for help more frequently over the past couple of months. It started out just looking at case reports and creating profiles from there, but then evolved into Will going out on the field with Jack Crawford to look at crime scenes.

Will could reconstruct any murder scene flawlessly. As his work with the Metropolitan Police improved, his own health declined. Sleep, which had never been kind to Will, was practically impossible when all Will could see behind his eyelids were blood and bodies.

But he was saving lives, so what did his own life matter if he could help others?

As Will drew his coat closer around him against the bitter chill of that early September morning, he couldn't help but feel frustrated with himself. This was the fourth victim in less than a month, and all of East End was buzzing with fear and gossip. 

A letter had arrived at the police station only a few days before, signed by their killer, taking the name "Jack the Ripper." It seemed strange to have him name himself, but Will knew that the sender of the letter was the man they were searching for. He was toying with the police, taunting them.

It just seemed like the ultimate proof that the Ripper was more dominant than they had first thought. He had sent one letter and immediately changed his name from the Whitechapel Murderer to Jack the Ripper. Will decided that he was not going to allow himself to feel impressed with such complete manipulation.

This killer was intelligent, possibly a doctor given the medical skill he possesses when cutting into his victims. Organs were taken as well, though Will wasn't quite sure why the Ripper wanted them as trophies of his kills.

Will was vaguely aware of Jack appearing behind him, the older man's hand barely ghosting over Will's shoulder to announce his presence before speaking. Jack had a voice that commanded a room, and a part of Will was quite scared of him when that powerful voice was raised.

"Why haven't we caught this guy, Mr. Graham?" Jack asked, slipping into the formal use of Will's name that let the younger man know that the head of the Metropolitan Police was not pleased. "This is the fourth victim. How many more will there be?"

"Don't blame me for this, Jack." Will said, turning to look at the man, though his gaze never lifted above Jack's shoulder. "I'm doing everything I can to catch him."

"You've never had this sort of trouble before," Jack reminded him, as if Will wasn't perfectly aware of that fact already.

"I've never faced this sort of killer before." Will responded cooly, fumbling slightly with his glasses before slipping them into his pocket. "If you could stand back so that I can do my job, that would be very much appreciated."

Will didn't dare to outright demand anything from Jack. He knew that nothing good would come from it. Still, Jack saw that Will didn't want to say any more on that subject just then, and decided to let it go for the time being instead of continuing to shout at the empath in front of a dead body. 

As Jack's footsteps faded away, Will closed his eyes and let the pendulum swing.

No one could define Will or what he did. Anyone who knew about the Metropolitan Police knew who Will Graham was, and what he could do. A reporter from _The Illustrated London News,_ a deplorable woman by the name of Fredricka Lounds seemed hellbent on telling the entire city that Will was an insane dog that the Metropolitan used to sniff out killers in her crime column. Will detested her with a passion.

Some people said it was witchcraft or black magic, but what Will did simply could not be explained. He had an incredible sense of empathy, and he used it to do the best he could to help people.

Everything faded into silence, the bustle of flustered people and the begging of poor men and women embarking on a swift decrescendo into nothing. Soon all Will could hear was breathing. His own, and the woman who was standing before him.

"She isn't scared of me," Will murmured, surrounded by late evening darkness instead of early morning light. "Not yet. I'm charming, I'm elegant. She won't know what's going to happen until it is too late."

They were standing close. The woman obviously didn't mind the proximity. In fact, she kept moving closer, tilting her chin up as if to kiss him. It was then that Will lifted his hand, brushing his fingertips over her pale neck, before grabbing hold, choking her.

"She is a pig," he grumbled, wrapping both hands around her neck as she struggled weakly, trying to claw at his face, his hands. She was trying to run, but he had caught her off guard, and he was much too strong. "She is a pig that is not worthy to roam around on this planet."

By this time, she had stopped struggling. Will held her up, noting the slight rise and fall of her chest. Almost tenderly, he laid her down on the ground, her head turned towards the left, her hair falling out of the intricate pins that it had been placed in before. 

"She will serve a better purpose for me now," he murmured, reaching into his coat and pulling out a knife, a small smile gracing his calm face. 

That maddening calm didn't leave him as he cut her throat, her warm blood pooling around her head, washing over his hands. Will reveled in the sound of her dying breaths, as she choked and paled, her hands fluttering feebly over the wound that was far too severe to stop.

"I don't want her to die yet," he said, quickly moving the knife to her belly before he stabbed in, opening her up like a grotesque Christmas present.

But this wasn't grotesque. This was his design.

Will cut out the lungs of the dying woman, who gave one last gasp before her heart stopped beating. Will's cuts were precise and perfect, being sure not to harm his trophy.

"I wrap her lungs," he breathed, performing the action as he spoke. "I don't want to let my prize go to waste." In the dark, it simply looked like a large parcel wrapped in newspaper. But Will knew better, knew that in his arms he held all that pig of a woman really had to offer to the world.

With a shudder, Will opened his eyes and was momentarily blinded by the light. London was notorious for monotonous, grey weather, but Will was grateful for the sunlight. It helped to ground him, to remind him that he was not the Whitechapel Murderer, was not Jack the Ripper.

"Jack!" Will called back to the man, letting him know that Will was done processing the scene.

Almost immediately, Jack and his small team came back to where the body of the woman lay, searching the scene for anything that would be useful in catching the Ripper.

"What have you got for me, Will?" Jack asked quietly, looking straight ahead of him at the dead woman.

Will took out his glasses again, clasping his hands together in front of him. He refused to admit that he was shaking.

"This killer thought she was a pig," Will mumbled, staring down at the woman, her open chest revealing the organs that the Ripper had decided not to 'rip'. "He took her lungs, but there was no meaning behind it. It was just another organ to him."

"He took a liver from his last two victims, and a kidney from the first." Jack reminded him, and Will felt compelled to snap at Jack, inform the man that he knew the Ripper case forward and backwards, that it haunted him day and night. But Will held his tongue.

"Jack, this guy is smart. He doesn't kill out of love or hatred, he just kills because he _enjoys_ taking their lives. He's the devil, and it's not going to be easy to catch him." Will stressed, not prepared to make a deal with this devil who left blood in his wake. He glanced over at the man beside him before looking away. Strange, that the empath could look at a mutilated corpse more easily than his boss.

Instead of commenting on Will's lack of faith, Jack commented on Will's lack of sanity. "You're the best at what you do, Will. But I think you're slipping." Jack admitted, turning to look at the younger man, who steadfastly refused to glance in Jack's direction. He didn't want to see all the emotions behind his eyes. Would there be anger? Fear? Guilt? Jack did tend to worry about Will's sanity. Then again, Will conceded, he supposed someone had to. After all, he certainly wasn't going to do it.

"I'm not slipping, Jack." Will told him, stiffening slightly. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You would tell me if I broke you, wouldn't you?" Jack asked, then plowed on before Will could lie to him. "Because I need you here. I don't want to keep worrying that you'll fall apart at a crime scene, or that you'll end up mad."

"What do you suggest I do?" Will asked, frustration evident. Jack didn't find solutions, he just stated problems.

"Maybe you should see a psychiatrist." Jack suggested, and Will almost laughed. It would be unethical of him to laugh when a dead woman was lying so close to where they stood.

"I don't want anyone inside my head," Will said flatly, in a way that he hoped signified he was reaching the end of his patience.

Jack didn't say anything more, but Will knew that the man hadn't given up on the conversation. It would pick up again at a later date, likely at a very inopportune moment, as was Jack's unfortunate habit.

Will didn't want anyone in his head. After all, there were already enough nightmares taking up residence there. He didn't need some over eager psychiatrist trying to psychoanalyze him.

**Author's Note:**

> There will definitely be some changes to both history in general, as well as the history of Jack the Ripper. I want to involve more of these ladies, so they will have jobs that they wouldn't actually possess in 1880, but I'm happy to let that inaccuracy slide. I also don't want Hannibal to just kill prostitutes the way the Ripper did, so there will be men and women of all jobs and societal positions getting murdered in this story. Anyway, please leave me comments and kudos if you enjoy the story so far and want to read more!


End file.
